


Study Session

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, First Kiss, Mild Language, Trans Female Character, Tutoring, why study introductory bio when you can kiss Grelle Sutcliff instead?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 03:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Grelle is stuck in a biology tutoring session with Othello, but she has lessons of her own to teach him.





	Study Session

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt on Tumblr requesting a first kiss for these two. I decided to opt with a human/college AU. Hope you enjoy! :3

Grelle glowered at the open textbook in front of her. It was Friday night, and she _ought _to be out on the town with An, Mey Rin, and the rest of her friends. Thanks to a C in Introduction to Biology I that was threatening to tank her GPA, however, she was stuck _here_, in a science classroom packed with black-topped tables, mounted skeletons in the cabinets, and piles of atrociously boring study materials. At least the TA, Othello, was here to guide her through the twists and turns of the Krebs cycle and oxidative phosphorylation and all the other horrid things that a theatre major would never need to think about in the real world. If not for him, she’d probably be flunking the class outright.

“So, Grelle,” Othello asked her as he munched on some licorice, “wanna explain the electron transport chain to me?”

After wracking her brain miserably, to no avail, Grelle banged her head on the textbook in defeat. “I don’t give a flying fuck, darling,” she moaned.

“You’re gonna have to give a lot more fucks than that to pass this test, Grelle,” he chided. She raised her weary head and stuck out her lower lip in a petulant pout. Unmoved, Othello crossed his scrawny arms over his chest. “I know you don’t like this stuff, but you can do it, Grelle! C’mon. If you’re able to memorize all of Ophelia’s lines for that production of _Hamlet _you’re starring in, you can learn how mitochondria make ATP,” he encouraged her. Grelle’s lips quirked upward.

She wasn’t sure what to make of Othello. At first glance, she wouldn’t have considered him to be her “type.” A scruffy little nerd who unironically wore socks with sandals (which horrified her to no end) and boasted a wardrobe consisting chiefly of ratty white T-shirts and grungy blue jeans, he lacked the fashion sense she generally preferred in men. He adored licorice (which happened to be Grelle’s least favorite candy—who the hell actually _enjoyed_ that stuff?), and spent long, solitary hours in the lab or building strange contraptions in his dorm. Definitely not her type…but, strange as it seemed, she liked the guy. In stark contrast to many other students and a few of the more close-minded faculty, Othello never treated her differently from any other woman on campus. He’d congratulated Grelle and given her an awkward but heartfelt hug when she was finally able to start transitioning. He was sassy, never afraid to tease or talk back to Grelle, and she appreciated a bit of spunk in a man. Although undeniably eccentric, Othello was sharp as a tack. He was always willing to help Grelle when she was floundering in this damn class (which was pretty much all the time). Unlike the professor, he also knew how to translate geek talk in ways that (sort of) made sense, which was why Grelle had started setting up regular study sessions with him.

“Can I really, though?” she drawled, resting her chin on her hand.

“I mean, that Shakespearean stuff is way harder than bio. You have to get up in front of dozens of people and actually _perform_ it for them? I could never do that. Writing down a bunch of biochemical pathways is way easier,” Othello laughed. “Speaking of which…” He pulled his chair closer to hers and patiently began reviewing the arcane journeys leading to the production of adenosine triphosphate.

Grelle found herself blushing when they put their heads close together. Though disheveled, Othello was _cute_, especially when his catlike green eyes sparkled with excitement as he waxed eloquent about his favorite subject.

“Er…Grelle, are you paying attention?” Othello asked, scrutinizing her.

“Have you ever kissed someone before, darling?” she purred. Grelle leaned closer, and her hair cascaded about Othello like opulent red curtains.

“W-what kind of question is that?” he squawked. “I mean, uh, no—but I , uh…er…” His hands dithered insensibly on the table. He was clearly flustered, but he didn’t pull away. Grelle brought her hands behind his back and pulled him into her lap. Timidly, he reached out to touch her cheek.

“Then it’s high time someone tutored you in the subject,” she declared with a grin.

He tasted of licorice, but the flavor suited Grelle’s palate surprisingly well. Though a little clumsy, Othello made up for his inexperience with his eagerness, following Grelle’s lead and clinging to her for dear life.

“Hope you…don’t mind…if we forget about those mitochondria for now,” Grelle panted, plating a trail of kisses down his neck.

“Not at all,” Othello laughed breathlessly, stroking her hair in awe. “Y-you’re much more interesting. Way prettier, too.” Grelle giggled delightedly at that. Actress and nerd spent the next half-hour studying each other with a fervor that Grelle would never feel for biology. It was the first of many lessons Othello was to receive in the science (or art?) of loving Grelle Sutcliff.


End file.
